The Trouble with a Hung Jury
by Flipping Seltzer
Summary: A simple errand gives Mike some insight into Harvey's past...whether Harvey wants it to or not. Friendship.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I disclaim—I own nothing. As I don't feel like anything I can imagine can compete with the awesome-ness that is Suits I will remain in canon and adjust as needed so that the story will make sense in relation to the series. Set between 1.03 and 1.04.

This is not a Harvey/OC or Mike/OC although there will be references to romance for both. The relationships are going to be used as plot devices to explore character development. I like the idea of them getting to know each other outside of work and the dynamic that will being to how they view each other. Which basically means I enjoy putting them in awkward, revealing moments. This also will not be slash although the bromance will be epic. Bear with me through this first chapter, the guys will be together for the second.

Chapter 1

"A countryman between two lawyers is like a fish between two cats." - Benjamin Franklin.

Shit, he was so late. Mike Ross rolled up on his bike outside the office, practically half off the seat even as he slid to a stop. Maybe Harvey wouldn't notice? Maybe he was in a meeting with Jessica or torturing Lewis or, for once, actually doing his own paperwork. _Or not_. "You're late." Harvey's voice startled Mike, the lawyers' confident tone layered with amusement and aggravation.

"I-" The fake associate started to reply, fumbling with his bike lock in his new haste. _How was it his fault every road seemed to under construction this morning?_

But instead of gesturing for the blonde to hurry up or just walking away, still talking—a much more Harvey move—the older man grabbed Mike fumbling hands with disgust and lectured. "Don't be so transparently nervous Ross, it shows weakness. Also, for gods sake, buy a watch—this issue that you seem to have with eight o'clock is starting to piss me off." Pulling the bike lock away, Harvey threw it at Mike's face with slightly more venom than a simple tardy warranted. _Shit, what did I do? _Silently, Mike went over all his offenses of the past week—_the doll thing, that had been bad; the Trevor thing, that had been worse_—but both of those had been handled, they'd put it behind them. _Hadn't they?_ He started with the lock again but his boss' voice stopped him again. "No, don't bother. I have a little errand for you to run."

_An errand?_ "Doesn't the firm have a service for that?"

"Yes they do smartass." Harvey didn't seem to be in the mood for his witty charm this morning. In fact he didn't seem to be in any mood but a bad one. His eyes were lined with dark circle and his suit, which was always spotless and pristine, seemed slightly rumpled around the waistcoat. "You. I pay you to do what I tell you and you do it; if I want you to run a fucking errand that's what you're doing." He pulled out a manila envelope, signed on the back in his neat script. Mike took it silently, wondering what client he had forgotten to send something to—he could feel the tell-tale heft of legal documents inside, and he was assuming, from Specter's poor mood, that he had screwed something up. Again. "Columbia University. Go to the anthropology department and give this to Dr. Ryan." He grabbed the edge of the envelope before Mike could slip it into his messenger bag, "only, Dr. Ryan." He raised an eyebrow threateningly. "If this envelope touches anyone else's hand _you are fired_. You understand? No grad assistants, no secretaries, no fucking mail clerk. Dr. Ryan." He let go of the documents and gave Mike an apprising look. "Is that suit from Sears?" He sneered.

Mike looked down. The suit in question was one from his own meager collection; all of Trevor's 'borrowed' ones too dirty to wear until he managed to find time to go the dry cleaners. It was, in fact, from a thrift store, which Harvey would undoubtedly consider an even worse choice so he said nothing, hoping the partner was too furious to actually want a response. He was correct, but the man continued to stare at him, as if evaluating his worth. Mike tugged nervously at his tie and Harvey slapped his hand away. "Just go, Ross. And try and get the papers there without causing any sort of incident that's going to cost me money." The lawyer rubbed his temples and for a second, just a flash of a moment, he looked...sad. But then the moment passed and he was Harvey again, looking pissed and aloof all at the same time.

Not willing to risk the man's rage again, Mike hopped back onto his bike, speeding away from the firm and towards the university.

What felt like hours later he was at Columbia, wandering around the maze that was the anthro building. It seemed that Dr. Ryan had an office to himself, but it was one of those broom closet deals, a makeshift sort of place that held cleaning supplies twenty years ago before some poor grad student decided it was just big enough to fit a desk and few library books. Finally, he found it. Situated next to another larger office with a department head plaque on the door, Dr. Ryan's own nameplate had been hammered into the wood by a lazy janitor—one of the screws had come loose and so someone had shoved a pushpin just below it, keeping it level. The door was almost shut, a sliver of light emerging from the crack. His hand hovered around the door—was someone there? Was it rude to knock? God, why hadn't he actually gone to office hours at NYU? Then he'd actually know how to do this properly. "Come in or keep moving but if you stand right there another second I'm calling security." It was a woman's voice, strong, with the sort of clipped tone that you get from living in countries where you have to enunciate to an extreme degree.

He pushed open the door to reveal an office that was larger than he expected—narrow as predicted but surprisingly long. The reason for her irritation was clear now that he saw how she had set up the room. The desk, instead of facing the door, faced a wall, allowing the seated to see the light in the doorway—or when someone was standing in front of the door, see the shadow. "Ah and here is the lingerer." The girl seated at the desk didn't look up, letting her dirty blond hair create a curtain between them as she traced a pencil down a page. Coffee cups were scattered around, along with maps and books and, strangely, pieces of clothing. There was a single chair in front of the desk, along with a ratty looking loveseat which was shoved into the far end of the long room. "If this is about midterms—they are not graded yet. If you ask one more time it will not get your paper graded faster—it will get you an F for harassment. If this is about field work you're in the wrong office—despite what you may have heard I don't control the selections process. Now go away."

"Um, well," to be honest he was a little offended. It wasn't bad enough that Harvey treated him like a moron first thing—now this person was assuming he was still in college? This day sucked. "Actually this isn't about any of those-"

Now she looked up. She had on a large pair of glasses, the squared frames making her eyes look large in the fluorescent lighting. She was young-ish, older than himself but certainly not pushing fifty, mildly attractive, in a bookish, girl next door sort of way. "Don't tell me you're here to talk about the paper—I might have a heart attack if one of you legitimately felt the impulse to get an A."

He pulled the envelope out of his satchel. "Listen, I'm not here to talk. I'm not in your class—I don't even go to this school! I'm just here to see Dr. Ryan, so if you could please tell me where he is, or will be, I'll leave you alone with your…" He strained his eyes to see the page, "…picture book."

"This," She tapped the page, "is one of the only analyses' of the Spanish relactiones. It is not a 'picture book'—they are cultural maps." She pointed a finger at him, her lips curved into a smirk. "And it weighs more than enough to smack your little head in if you ever talk to me like that again." She winked. "But I like your moxy kid, so what can I do for you?"

"Dr. Ryan?"

"Is I. That is to say, my name is Dr. Eleanor Ryan, of the Park Avenue Ryan's." She pulled off her glasses and stared at him. "And you are, young man in the unfortunate suit?"

What was wrong with this suit? It had looked fine on the hanger? Of course now it had half of New York City's street filth all over it… "Dr. Ryan's a woman… that would have been nice to know Harvey…" He muttered under his breath, passing the envelope to the woman with only the slightest bit of trepidation. Maybe he should have asked for ID?

She froze, the envelope crinkling a little as her grip tightened. "Harvey Specter? You work for Harvey?"

"Yeah, I'm his new associate. Mike Ross." He held out a hand, which was accepted with an appraising glance. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself but Harvey was very clear that that envelope was-"

"Oh I'm sure he threatened you extremely well Mr. Ross, no need to expand on the matter." She tore the envelope open and edged the documents out, glancing but not reading them. She seemed more interested in Mike himself, a keen hazel eye watching him even as she scanned the small font. "So he made senior partner? Good for him." She put the envelope down and Mike had to physically stop himself from looking down and snooping. What was so important that he had to some all the way down here and hand deliver an envelope that the client didn't even seem to realize was coming?

He tried to keep from fidgeting under her assessing gaze. Could he go? Did he need to bring a reply back? "Has Harvey worked for you long Dr. Ryan?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh we've been together for about fifteen years Mr. Ross, since he was an associate like yourself." She glanced at her watch and blanched. "Now, however, is not the time for that discussion—I suggest you discuss it with Harvey yourself." She stood and motioned towards the door. He went, but his way was blocked by a large barrel chest. A tall, suited man stood in the doorway, his salt and pepper hair cropped close and his expression harsh.

"You're early." Behind him, Dr. Ryan admonished the older man, her tone affectionate and warning.

"You said nine. It's 0905; although this is a ridiculously late hour to have breakfast Eleanor." The man looked Mike up and down and then dismissed him, focusing on the professor and trapping Mike between them.

Eleanor slid closer, seamlessly pushing Mike sideways and back in an effort to ease the awkwardness. "Dad, I got off a plane from Peru seven hours ago, as far as I'm concerned its 5am." She kissed his cheek and pushed him gently backwards. "Now give me a second. This office is filled to capacity."

"I have to get back to the firm by 1030 Ellie." He warned before stepping out, giving Mike one last glance."

She looked over apologetically. "Sorry, he's a little single minded." She grabbed a note pad and jotted something down, yanking the yellow post-it and handing it to him. "This is for Harvey. Tell him thanks for getting me the papers so quickly—a little quicker than I expected actually."

"It's not a big deal. I'll let him know."

She grinned and Mike felt himself smiling back. She motioned him to precede her out and he did, almost walking into Dr. Ryan's father, who looked even more intimidating in the better lit hallway. "Harvey?" The man's face was dark with anger, apparently having eavesdropped on their last words. He glared at Mike. "You work for Harvey Specter?"

Seeing the clear fury and taking a cue from Dr. Ryan's quick shake of the head, he wheedled, "I uh, I work for Pearson Hardman...sir." Despite himself, he didn't crumble under the man's gaze and so he swung it over to his daughter, who was locking the door.

"Why are you contacting that man Eleanor?"

"Dad." Her tone implied that the topic should be closed but the man reached out and grabbed Mike's shoulder, keeping him in place even as the associate tried to back away. She sighed and twirled her keys. "I'm trying to sell the house in Cozumel, it's too big for me and I don't need the expense. Harvey's helping me find a buyer and deal with the paperwork. I needed a lawyer and, considering the circumstances, he was the logical choice."

The man frowned but released his grip on Mike. "I'm a lawyer Eleanor. You can come to me with this sort of thing. There's no need to involve that man." Mike almost spoke up, not liking the way his mentor was being referred to, but a glance at the pinched features of Harvey's client made him hold his tongue. The client came first. He'd tell the partner about the fight privately.

"'That man'. Honestly Dad…" She pulled her father away, smiling apologetically as she led him away from the young associate.

Mike sighed, glad to be away from the large man. He glanced down at the post it. In large, looping script, 'thanks Harvey' filled the square, a tiny smiley face scratched into the corner. It was the most informal reply he had ever seen during his short tenure at the firm. He folded the yellow paper and stuck it in his jacket pocket wondering how exactly Donna would file post it and why exactly a young Columbia professor would use such an expensive lawyer for a real estate deal. The only thing he didn't concern himself with was why Harvey's very name had so enraged Mr. Ryan—Harvey pissed off most people. If Mike worried about all of them he'd never get any work done.


	2. Chapter 2

I disclaim. F-bomb alert later in the chapter (Harvey gets a little emotional).

"Pity is the virtue of the law, and none but tyrants use it cruelly." William Shakespeare

Chapter 2

The note was burning a hole in Mike's pocket.

Harvey had been in a meeting when Mike had gotten back to the office and then, once he finally emerged from the conference room and stormed back into his own glass space, Donna had refused entrance to the associate. No amount of pleading had made her change her mind either, even though Mike had put on his best puppy dog face. And he was very good at pathetic. But Donna was not a pushover and working for Harvey she had built up a tolerance for bullshit that would rival a politicians. She was a pitbull and the only way Mike was getting past her was by losing an arm or taking her on.

Mike had a feeling he'd lose that fight. Every time.

So he trudged back to his cubicle, disappointed. His only options were to wait it out or give the post it to the redhead. But it was such an unusual situation for the closer and the young man couldn't help but want to see his face when he looked at the smiley face. People gave Harvey cars, or 401ks, or illegally imported cigars—they did not give him smiley faces and terrible cursive 'thanks'. In pencil.

Finally, after what seemed like days, but was in fact probably three hours, he was summoned. Donna gave him a look that promised a good reaming out once he entered the office. He made a face right back and she raised her eyebrows at him. Don't try me, her face declared, even as she sweetly answered the phone, polite as anything. "Get in here Mike." Harvey bellowed, ending their staring competition. The blonde entered, closing the door behind him so the whole office wouldn't hear his humiliation. They could only see it; damn glass walls. "I don't pay you to antagonize Donna," Harvey reprimanded him as he took a seat. "When I tell you to get in here, you don't dawdle."

"She was antagonizing me! She always starts it!" Mike defended himself, even though he knew it was pointless. Donna was the perfect Specter employee. She was quick witted, had a mean streak, and kept Lewis in his place. He couldn't compete with that. He wasn't even playing the same game as the secretary. He changed the subject. "Dawdle? Really?"

Harvey smirked. "I thought I would use language you're more comfortable with—you're late so often I figure it must be old age and hip-replacement getting to you. Because people who don't frequent the senior center can usually manage moving quickly."

"You're just upset I didn't invite you to bingo Thursday. There's a singles mixer after—apparently there are hundreds of granddaughters just dying to meet me." Mike grinned but he could see that Harvey's heart wasn't really in the bantering.

The senior partner moved behind his desk, extending a file for Mike. "I need financials and backgrounds on these names. No rush—you can pull one of the other peons to help if you want." The older man didn't meet Mike's eye as he said the last order. Mike nodded, knowing that it was his bosses way of apologizing for his unwarranted anger this morning.

When Harvey did look up, Mike smiled; it was appreciated. "They'll be done by morning." His fingers crinkled around the post it. "Oh, Dr. Ryan asked me to give this to you." He extended the yellow paper, watching as Harvey took it with reluctant fingers. He watched the lawyer's face as he read the thanks and took in the note. Nothing. The man might as well have been reading a lunch order. He was stone. Mike let out a puff of air, disappointed, then ventured, "she seems nice. Her dad didn't seem to like you though."

"Aaron was there?" Harvey inquired sharply.

"If that's Dr. Ryan's father than yes—big guy, graying hair."

Harvey shot out of his chair, coming around to give a full body glare. "What did you tell him? What did he say?"

Mike backed up a little, out of the larger man's range. "I didn't say anything really. I mentioned your name, he guessed I worked for you and so I said I worked for the firm. He got angry and started yelling at his daughter." Now Harvey frowned thoughtfully. "She calmed him down and then we all left. They were going to breakfast or something."

Harvey walked over to his shelf and picked up a picture, tossing it to Mike. The associate glanced at it. Harvey and a man Mike recognized as a younger Aaron Ryan were grinning together, decked out in Harvard crimson, what was clearly some sort of sporting event behind them. Mike just glimpsed half of Dr. Ryan's face in the background. "Do you know who Aaron Ryan is?" Harvey didn't wait for a response. "Aaron Ryan is a senior partner at Lemon, Ryan, and Britto. One of the oldest corporate law firms in Manhattan. _The_ competition. It took me _months_ to convince Eleanor to go over her dad's head and let me represent her in this deal. Because along with being a damn good lawyer, Ryan also has a large family fortune that his daughter will inherit; and when she does, I'd like to be the one telling her what to do with it." He pointed at the picture. "That all hinges on Eleanor standing up to her father, which, let me tell you kid, is not easy. The man fought in Korea—he's about as subtle as a tank. And as unyielding. You waltzing in and forcing the truth out is not good. Not at all."

"It looks like he liked you here." Mike extended the picture and Harvey took it, brushing the frame with his thumb.

"That was in law school. Before I came here and started breaking all his closure records. Men like Aaron get very competitive." Mike raised an eyebrow and Harvey grinned. "I don't need to be competitive—it's not a competition if you're the best." He set the frame down. "Needless to say, that was a very long time ago, and if Aaron thinks I'm trying to poach his daughter's business-"

"-which you are."

Harvey glared. "-this could get ugly."

Mike nodded and tried to reassure his boss. "I didn't say anything about you or what I was doing there. Dr. Ryan just said something about a house in Mexico."

The senior partner nodded. "Well let's just hope she calmed him down before he starts flinging pointless lawsuits at us. I don't want to be caught up in vindictive legislation for years."

"Harvey." Jessica was standing in the doorway, looking unhappy. "I need to see you in my office. Now." The African American woman spun on her heel and left as Harvey groaned. Mike frowned in the woman's direction, she loved Harvey—what could have gotten her so upset? And did it invole this strange business with Ryans?

"Great. Just what I need today." He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on, but left it unbuttoned.

Mike glanced at him warily and tensely asked, "Are you sure it's just the money? Aar- Mr. Ryan seemed pretty upset…like it was, personal or something."

Harvey glanced at him sharply. "I've got to go see Jessica. Get back to work Mike." Then he left, leaving the associate standing in his office, confused.

SUITS…SUITS…SUITS…SUITS…

Harvey moved quickly out of his office, ignoring Donna's call and brushing past annoying associates looking for attention. Why had he sent Mike? The associate was smart and capable, but he had no social skills and Harvey hadn't even prepped him on the situation. Not that he wanted to think about the situation himself. Damn Aaron Ryan.

The older man had been his alumni mentor at Harvard and at the time it had been great. Aaron was smart, manipulative, rich, and he won cases that seemed like impossible victories; he was everything Harvey wanted to be and now was. But the older man could also be cruel and demeaning, bordering on abusive. After his first year, Harvey had clerked for him during the summer and had realized just how far that cruelty could extend. Not that he was ungrateful to the man—Aaron had gotten him an enviable internship, introduced him to all the right people, and spent time with him that Jessica, a new partner at time, wouldn't have been able to give. Set him up in an apartment, brought him to parties, and introduced him to his daughter. It was a world of luxury and elegance that a cop's son had only imagined. He lived richly for the first time in his life, a far cry from his cramped 2-1 hole in the wall he shared with three other sweaty grad students.

What he hadn't, stupidly, anticipated was that the kindness wasn't free. Aaron had expected a return from his young protégé.

Harvey hadn't delivered—so he had paid it back. The cost of every suit, canapé, apartment, and appetizer. He could still remember the look on the old bastards face when he presented him with the check two years ago.

He was still smirking about it when he walked into Jessica's office, stopping to knock lightly on the doorway as he did so. His boss did not look pleased. "Do you know what this is?" She slapped a pile of square message receipts on her desk. "These are messages from every Lemon, Ryan, and Britto partner, associate, and secretary, asking me to call Mr. Ryan with assurances that we are not poaching his clients. I finally got one to stop crying long enough to tell me that Aaron Ryan has been terrorizing them for the better part of hour, asking about client status' and whether or not they've been engaging in corporate espionage." She threw up a hand. "Any idea why he might be bringing his staff to tears Harvey?"

He tilted his head and pretended to think. "Not really. Is the full moon tomorrow? He might just be PMSing before he communes with Satan."

Jessica bit back a smile. "This is not funny Harvey. The damage control that I had to do when you first became an associate at this firm was bad enough. Honestly I don't know if I can convince the other partners to fight for you again."

"Well that's a little insulting."

Jessica's light tone dropped to a more serious note. "You know what's insulting? That my secretary had to deal with grown men sobbing for an hour. That I have to sit here and listen to you bullshit me when I know perfectly well that the only person who can get Aaron into this much of a fervor is standing in front of me."

He sat, face dropping from cocky and uncaring into serious even as his butt hit the seat. "Eleanor is selling the Cozumel house."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "It's too big, it gets too much sun, it's too close to the cruise ships—I don't know why, we didn't discuss it. All I know it that she wants it gone. My name's on the paperwork so she had to inform me. In the spirit of friendship I offered to deal with the legal issues, draw up the paperwork, and find a buyer-"

"That's a lot of friendship." Jessica interjected.

Harvey glared petulantly at her. "Why is everyone interrupting me today? As I was _saying_, I found someone interested and had Mike run over the message and papers this morning. Since the kid has the subtlety of an elephant and the timing of a tortise Aaron spotted him and figured it out. But I think it'll be alright. Eleanor hasn't called to tell me the deals off so I'm assuming she's standing her ground." He sat back in the chair and let out a sigh. "But now that he knows we're talking…"

The female lawyer sat back too, examining Harvey's face carefully. "Maybe this'll be the end of it. After all that's all this is, right Harvey? A real estate deal— a onetime favor for Elle?" He nodded, brooding. "I'm serious Harvey—don't start this up again. The two of you are rotten together. It always ends in scotch and tears and me having to clean up whatever destruction you two caused during the bender."

"I said that was it!" Harvey snapped. "Fuck Jessica, let it go."

She raised an elegant eyebrow. "I'm going to pretend that didn't just come out of your mouth Harvey Specter, because if it did there would be consequences."

He stood, "why don't I just go and we can pretend that this whole conversation didn't happen." He stormed out of the office, just hearing her parting shot as he yanked the door open.

"Stay away from Eleanor Ryan, Harvey, and we won't have to have it again."


	3. Chapter 3

I disclaim. Sorry this is so late. I'm at the Cape and have no internet!

Chapter 3

Mike didn't hear anything about the Ryans', Eleanor or Aaron, for two months. Apparently, whatever business Harvey had with either was over quickly. He never had to petal to Columbia again and he never saw anymore post its cross Harvey's desk after the first one. 'The Post It' as Mike had begun calling it in his head, had gone into the trash can next to his boss's desk. He knew, because after Harvey had charged off to Jessica's he'd been grilled relentlessly by Donna until he told her exactly what had gone on that morning. Apparently he wasn't quite as intimidating, because the redhead revealed nothing about the Mysterious Ms. Ryan, other than shaking her head with a vaguely disappointed look on her face. She had however caved that afternoon when he brought her an espresso and provided the following two facts: 1. Harvey had tossed the post it in the trash after lunch, ripping it in half rather violently and 2. His boss had once had a relationship with Eleanor, ending in a rather vicious and scandalous breakup.

It was with the second fact in mind that Mike opened his browser and pulled up Google.

It had been a stressful few weeks, cumulating in the mock trial that he had won, yet lost. Rachel was no longer mad at him, but it seemed Harvey felt differently. He had given Mike Saturday off.

Normally this might be seen as a reward, or even the usual, but Mike had worked every Saturday since coming to the firm because Harvey worked every Saturday, unless there was a major sporting event, in which case Mike would work for both of them. The closer was preparing for a case yet had explicitly informed Mike not to come in; therefore, punishment.

The few friends he had left were busy and Jenny had to work herself, so Mike was on his own. Settling in behind his computer with a beer, the associate had meant to start on some editing he knew Harvey would want on his desk by Monday night; he was now three beers in and feeling a little more scorned and a little less like working. How was it bad thing that he hadn't made a co-worker break down in front the whole office? It was mean and petty, especially since he had begun the attack with a purposeful anger. Harvey would have finished it, but he wanted to be 'a Harvey', not necessary 'like' Harvey. The difference was clear, at least to him. He polished off the last beer and snorted. "No wonder everyone hates him; he's an asshole."

Once he said it aloud it felt a little petty though. Harvey wasn't a bad guy; he'd helped him after all. Lied for him, helped Trevor out of that stupid mess he'd gotten mixed up in. But it seemed like every good quality the lawyer had, every good deed, there was another bad trait or scheme waiting to zero out the score again. Because Harvey hadn't mentioned it and he'd been caught up in Trevor and Rachel drama, he hadn't thought about Eleanor and Harvey but he figured…what could it hurt?

A good associate did their research right?

He Googled Aaron Ryan first and was bombarded by hits about cases and the man's law firm. He scrolled through the first half dozen but then gave up. Their law firm apparently had a very dedicated PR team, there was nothing very telling, or very negative, in those. Moving to the end of the page, he found a blog discussing the man himself. It was a rather neutral expose, discussing the man's business practices and his temper, which was apparently explosive. Nothing too bad but no glowing praise, until the very end when the writer mentioned, "_I would always prefer to have Mr. Ryan as my lawyer, but I would rather not ever see the man in personal setting. A notorious alcoholic and womanizer since his divorce, Mr. Ryan is reported to be as cruel to his daughter and employees as he is to his competition in the courtroom. I suppose one can't have it all."_

He wondered what it would be like if Harvey drank and yelled. The man certainly did the latter, but not unless Mike deserved it—the older man's silent disapproval always hit the young man harder than any verbal punch. And while Harvey would drink at a business lunch if the client imbibed, he never drank during the day in the office, preferring his scotch at the Harvard Club, a place he was always pointing out Mike couldn't enter. Apparently that was part of the appeal. He thought about Harvey, younger and perhaps a little idealistic, having to put up with Aaron Ryan screaming at him while sipping a glass of something.

Then he put the thought from his mind. He wanted to be angry and the image was ruining it for him.

Eleanor was next. He giggled a little as he typed it in; both such old fashioned names, Harvey and Eleanor. Names for grandparents, not the intimidating late 30 something's he knew they were. Aaron's daughter had a few more interesting results. The woman had published several papers and edited a journal on South American Archaeology. An overachiever, just like his boss; both unusually young for their posts. Along with her academic success, she also appeared in several gossip pages and even in a few Page 6 articles. He had wondered why Harvey, who seemed to constantly be attracted to models and bombshells would have dated such a, well, regular woman, but a few of those articles changed his mind. What Eleanor didn't have in looks she more than made up for in charisma and polish. Stylish and put together, she was more classically beautiful than many of the models she posed next to on second look—and decidedly less starved.

And then, finally, the motherload. A cache of photos from a gala seven years ago. Moving through them with no real thought process, he almost passed it by, but no, no there it was again. Harvey, looking as full of himself as ever in a black tuxedo, and Eleanor on his arm, wearing a grey dress that reminded him of something he'd once seen on runway photo. He blew it up, trying, through his tipsy eyes, to see something that would give him a clue—and there, smacking him in the face was a rock the size of… well nothing really. Considering the money Harvey paid for his cars, Mike had been expecting something a little more… flashy. The lawyer certainly wasn't above tackiness if it made a statement and the associate would have assumed his fiancé's engagement ring would have been a statement the possessive man would want to make clear.

The ring was nice, from what he could see in the grainy image, but certainly nothing to get excited about. In fact, Mike tried to sober up a little more as he examined the screen, Harvey wasn't looking very… Harvey-ish. He was in a tux sure, a tux that probably cost Mike's rent, but it was a plain, simple, and cheap selection compared to the man's every day suits. And the cockiness that Mike had assumed was plastered on his face wasn't a smug grin but a sincere one—Harvey looked years younger and truly happy.

It was…freaky.

Mike quickly clicked away, going back to the general results. He didn't know what the picture meant and it made him uncomfortable.

A page six result had both Harvey and Eleanor's name in it. He brought it up, feeling less like a rebellious subordinate and more like a peeping tom. But he couldn't stop himself—it was like his finger had a mind of its own. _'Socialite Elle Ryan and Husband Harvey Specter to Divorce'_ Mike's eyes widened and he scanned the short expose. _"…long term couple on the outs for several months…ADA Specter had no comment…Ryan spotted outside her father's office with papers in hand…infidelity suspected…Ryan to leave the country for unspecified time… Specter to take leave of absence…" _ It was a poor, un-researched load of crap, but it clarified several things; That Harvey had indeed been married, that it had ended badly, and that his mission had not been a punishment, but an avoidance tactic by his boss, also explaining why the guy had been so hostile all those months ago. The blonde man closed the search and opened another beer.

This had not gone the way he wanted. Anger deflated, he headed to his couch, ready to lose himself in some mindless entertainment. Maybe he'd pass out and wake up on Monday.

Across town, Harvey was just exiting the office when a black towncar pulled up in front. He frowned, waving at Ray, who he could see up the block, looking confused at the sudden arrival. The window rolled down and Harvey had to physically stop from flinching when his ex's honey hazel gazed at him meaningfully. "Need a ride, captain?" Her tone was bordering on mocking and he almost gave in to the taunt, ready with an insult to toss back at her. But then he saw the sincerity in her eyes and smiled back at her.

"Why not." He raised a hand to his mouth and called out a goodnight to Ray, letting him know his plans had changed. The driver waved merrily back, calling out his own farewell and slipping into his vehicle. Eleanor opened the door and slid across the bench seat. Harvey tossed in his briefcase and stepped in himself, calling out his address to the driver as he did so. He waited a moment, not wanting to seem too eager, before looking at his companion. "So what's this about Ellie? I assume you didn't drive across town just to pick up ex-lover's and gloat?"

She looked back, un-phased by his harsh tone. "I don't gloat Harvey—I believe that was always your specialty." She raised a glass to her lips. He gave the ice cubes and brown liquid a disapproving, meaningful stare that she ignored. "Can't an old friend come by to… catch up once in a while?"

He looked out the window and sighed, carefully shielding the movement by rolling his shoulders. "We were never friends Eleanor. And you're drunk."

She snorted and put down the drink, still half full. "Hardly. It's my first, and last, of the evening." At his sharp glance she nodded slowly. "I've made a few…changes. Nothing drastic, but I'm…doing my best." Now it was her that broke their stare, her that looked out on the passing lights of the city. "But you're right, I do want something. I want to know how you are."

He startled as her head swung around to see him. She was flushed, but he knew her well enough to know it was from embarrassment and not drink. "I'm fine." He replied carefully, not knowing where this was going.

"Don't bullshit me Harvey. That crap may work on those morons you work with, but it never worked on me. You can't Mr. Spock your way out of this." She looked out the window again, but her hand moved closer to his—still not touching, but close enough he could feel the peculiar feeling of body warmth and icy condensation radiating from the appendage.

"Why do you care?" He inquired honestly, genuinely confused as to why the woman who openly claimed to despise him would bother.

She picked up her glass with her other hand, awkwardly leaning so she could grab it. He caught a glimpse of cleavage from her scoop-neck sweater and immediately fixed his eyes on the seat in front of him. She took a sip and answered. "I suppose I miss you. Why do you think I asked you for help on the real estate issue? You're a corporate business lawyer Harvey. I wanted to see you, talk to you. But then you sent that little… boy instead."

He chuckled at her description of Mike. "My associate, yes. I assume Mike handled it alright?"

"So he's still with you?" She smiled, a genuine, happy thing that reminded him of their early relationship. "I'm impressed Mr. Specter, not many could manage to stick it out."

"Well what can I say? Kid is like a particularly ugly painting—it grows on you day by day until you can't bear to put it in the attic. Like that sailboat monstrosity that your Uncle Alan gave us."

She laughed. "You mean 'two poorly rendered ships in a mustard sunset'," she called it by their ridiculous nickname, grinning at him. "It's still up somewhere in the Hamptons house, god help us all."

He joined in, leaning back against the cool leather, finally relaxing in a way that spoke of how uncomfortable he'd been before. He looked away before he gaze pulled him in again. "I'm… alright, honestly. But I'm just… tired I suppose. Mike isn't what I had hoped. He lost the firm's mock trial—well actually he won, but in the eyes of the other senior partners… He was too soft, couldn't close…" he trailed off, knowing she'd understand.

She interjected quietly. "Isn't what you'd hoped or isn't what you had expected?" The ice cubes rattled. She was familiar with the sentiment.

Harvey sighed. "I suppose I expected him to go soft. In fact I figured he would lose the case entirely when I found out who he was cross-examining. I just…"

"Wanted more? Wanted him to be different?"

The lawyer laughed softly. He would never admit it but here… here in the muted lights of city, the soft leather beneath him, the heady, familiar scent of Ellie's perfume beside him. It was as if the towncar was a time machine and he was 23 again, young and idealistic and in love. He could do anything he wanted, drunk on the feeling of contentment and the knowledge that it would never leave this back seat. So he admitted his folly, "It was stupid really. I hired the kid; I know his weaknesses, know that he doesn't have what it takes to be a cold closer." He thought about Rachel's face on the security feed he'd pulled up, thought about Mike's kind nature and gentle approach. "I may have been a little harsh." He'd been angry, frustrated both at Scotty's using him and her future marriage. Had she felt this terrible when he'd married Elle? Was that why she'd packed off to London, scorned and frustrated but unable to voice it? If so he felt guilty. He glanced at Eleanor, her face tipped back to match his own relaxed pose, eyes closed. The lights of the city flickered on her face—she looked beautiful.

He felt guilt, but no regret.

Scotty had been a game. A dangerous liaison, a sparring partner that had been fun and competitive. He loved the idea of them, but not the woman herself. But he had loved Ellie. Had loved her for what she was, accepted her for what she was… and let go of what he'd wanted them to be.

Maybe he had wanted Mike to be like him, but the kid wasn't. He didn't have the killer instinct... and maybe it was time that Harvey accepted that and let go of his resentment toward the associate. He admitted, "I was more pissed about losing the bet, and money, to Louis than I was about the kid being nice."

"Writing checks your body can't cash Maverick?" She chuckled at his dismayed expression, which perked up at the top gun reference.

"Never Iceman." He grinned at her, remembering the limited edition she'd grudgingly purchased for his thirtieth. Shaking his head in amusement, he glanced out the window. Five blocks to go…four.

Soon the stillness would be over and he'd step out into the real world, hating her again. She'd drive away, wanting to hate him back but too numb to really feel anything but dry distain. But maybe… she'd put down the glass again, empty now, and she hadn't refilled it. Suprising… different. Looking at her, properly now as they stop and started towards his condo, he could see age on her. The 'different'. Lines on her face and neck that hadn't been present on their wedding day, her hands no longer unmarred and fleshy, but weathered from work and time, worn down. She had put on and lost weight in places, lost and gained curves.

He knew his own body, was proud of it, as he suspected she was of hers, but he acknowledged that if he undressed in front of her, she who had know him so long and well ago, he would look different. He would look…worn.

They had stopped, but Eleanor didn't tell him to get out, only sat there, large, familiar eyes turned to watch him, as he watched her. They were at a standstill, two enemies perched on the edges of the green zone, waiting for someone to make a move. Backwards or forwards it made no difference. The two of them had been in this battle for years, and every year one of them played this game, seeking the other out to talk or torture or ruin or play. Maybe it was Mike making him soft, or maybe her father not being so hard, but Harvey didn't want to kill her.

Harvey didn't know what exactly he wanted, but it wasn't to hurt her.

Something new was happening. He could travel new galaxies or return to spacedock… That was a ridiculous thought, and it took all of his willpower not to laugh and break the silence.

He thought of Captain Kirk and Maverick and, for some odd reason, Batman, and then, as always, he was proactive. The lawyer had always been the pursuer in their relationship and he didn't disappoint the trend. He kissed her. Hard and fast and then he opened the door and left, slamming the door behind him.

Whether that been an act of war or a olive branch was still uncertain, but he felt victorius, the same rush he got when closing a case, or telling Louis off.

He was a winner.

And then the towncar drove away, leaving him with the rose colored, or in this case tinted, glasses.

She drove away without a word. He looked up at the lights, now harsh and too bright in the dark sky. He titled his head as he entered the building, nodding to his doorman with a scowl. She drove away. That bitch.

And the moment was over. By the time he boarded the elevator he hated her again. And maybe, just maybe, he had a change of heart in between five and seven, but he got over it by nine. Bitch. He was going to watch Top Gun—just to spite her.

AN: Okay so, I know Mike isn't supposed to find out Harvey was a ADA until later on, but they didn't make it that much a secret on the show so I decided to use it. Also, Mike is pretty tipsy right now, and he isn't focusing on Harvey's career, just snooping in his personal life. He won't remember the ADA thing just the divorce aspect.


End file.
